


Megamind One Shots

by moonbunny31



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbunny31/pseuds/moonbunny31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of one shots featuring Megamind pre-movie</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hole in the Head

Hole in the Head

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I.

Piercings made a person look tough. He had seen several examples of this during his…outings from home. In fact, some of his fellow inmates had piercings. Of course, tattoos could be considered tough as well but he wasn't too sure he wanted one of those and a well placed ring or stud seemed enough. The general public viewed people with many of these decorations with distrust; the general consensus being that many holes on one's body indicated the wearer was up to no good. That was exactly what the self proclaimed Megamind wanted.

He asked several uncles but they refused to give him one. It wasn't sanitary with the tools they had on hand and what did he want with one in the first place? His non-uncles, the inmates that were not allowed to have any influence in his upbringing or even unsupervised time with him, would surely have no problem piercing him but he had suspicions of their proficiency. In any case he had learned long ago not to ask anything of his non-uncles.

Time did not lessen his desire to gain a symbol of badhood. In fact, it only increased. He hid away what little money he earned in workshop until he had what seemed enough for a single piercing. One was a good start. He then planned his next outing.

He wasn't allowed out, technically, but he was very careful not to get noticed and he always made sure he made it back before morning inspection. Minion didn't like it when he left. The only way to soothe the fish was to take him along. Fortunately he had built his friend a much better body than the one he had in chool. There was some room for improvement but at least Minion could move about on his own which made leaving much easier.

When he heard the guard make his rounds he got into place. Settling himself on his cot he pulled his blanket up to his chin. The guard paused by his cell and shined a light on him. He blinked at the guard in a oh-so-weary way. He could see a slight smile on the guard's face before the light moved away. "Good night, Blue."

He added a yawn for effect. "Night, Officer Mike." He usually called the guards by their last name but Officer Mike's last name involved a lot of sounds that he could not reproduce together correctly. Mike thought it was cute but allowed him to use his first name. Blue liked Mike and didn't really want to deceive him but it was imperative he kept his eyes on his prize.

He waited until he was sure the guard was far enough away before he slid from underneath the blanket and tiptoed to the other side of the cell. He considered the sleeping Minion. HIs first instinct was to wake him and have him follow but he thought better of it. Minion was already attached to his suit but it needed to be warmed up. Plus he wasn't sure how the fish felt about his idea. It would be better to surprise him.

His money was tucked under a loosened stone next to the toilet. He gathered it up and dusted to bills off before putting it in his pocket. Next came the tricky part, moving the stone that covered his escape. He had dug the tunnel a little over a year ago. So far it had gone unnoticed but it was cramped and moving the cover was difficult. It was twice as difficult trying not to wake Minion who would not be happy to see his charge sneaking out without him.

He made as little noise as possible. When enough of the cover had been removed he slipped through. He did his best to concentrate on breathing through his mouth instead of his nose to avoid the smell. His next order of business would have to be to come up with a better way out.

It was a long tunnel, long enough so that the exit came out far from the gate and searchlights. It took longer than he would have liked to get through but it was worth it.

The abandoned building at the exit was a bit of good fortune for him that he did not foresee when he initially broke through. It allowed him to store anything he needed outside of home and it was still easily accessible. He had nicked some jeans and a zip up hoodie last time and they were still there. Wearing normal clothes would make things easier.

He had already done his research. There were three shops within reasonable walking distance that could provide him with his objective. One was closed. The other shooed him out the door before he could fully cross the threshold which he found very rude. The last one was a bit further but he wasn't going home without trying his very best.

The door was already open. He took that as a good sign. There was no one in the shop save the owner. The man's own tattoos and piercings looked well done which seemed like fine advertisement. He walked in.

The man glanced over and squinted through his cigarette smoke at the boy. "What are you doing here, kid?"

"Please. I have money." He didn't like having to beg but he didn't want to be pushed out like the last place. Perhaps the color green would trump the color blue. He showed the man his lump of cash. "I just want a piercing."

The man rubbed his chin and eyed the money. "Well, I guess that ain't entirely permanent. But no tattoo, just the piercing."

"Just the piercing." Blue confirmed.

"Alright. Hop on up." He patted the chair in front of him. The boy grinned and climbed on the seat while the man extinguished his smoke and washed his hands. The thrill of success faded when a tray of tools was wheeled next to him. He didn't think the needles would be so big. But he was finally here and he was going to see it through. "So, what do you want? Something in your ear?"

Blue shook his head. His ears were far too sensitive. "I want something that looks tough."

The man laughed. "Oh yeah? How about in the tongue then? That's pretty badass."

"A bad ass?"

"Sure."

He didn't know what a donkey had to do to be considered bad but he was pretty sure he didn't want to be compared to one either way. He shook his head again.

"Yeah, I don't really like them either. How about here?" The man tapped a small spike he had just beneath his lower lip. "I get a lot of comments on mine."

That sounded promising. "Okay."

"You want a spike or a ball?"

"I like the spike."

"Alright! A kid after my own heart. Let's get you started. Stick out your lip." The man put on gloves and tugged on the boy's lower lip further out and flatter instead of a pout. He applied something that smelled like what was used in the hospital wing. It went on the outside near his chin and the inside near his gums. It tasted terrible. A clamp went on. "Chill, kid, it's just to make sure the needle goes in straight. You don't want it to be crooked, do you?"

"Nuh."

"Okay. You ready?" He picked up the needle. It was one of the bigger ones.

"Ugh." This was taken as a yes but he wasn't sure that was what he meant.

He had just closed his eyes when a familiar voice called out. "WHAT do you THINK you're DOING?" They both looked toward the door. If the man thought a blue kid was odd he didn't know what to think of what was in his doorway. It looked like a small robot with a fish in a bowl for head. It was talking. A blue faced kid could be explained as some weird fad but this had no explanation.

The robot fish thing came toward them in a series of steps and hops. The man's hands dropped in surprise making the clamp crash to the floor. "I was going to surprise you, Minion." The boy's ears flushed.

"Surprise, ha! I know you better than that. We're going home." A metal hand tugged on the boy's sleeve. He groaned but jumped off the stool.

"Sorry." he muttered. He wasn't sure who he was apologizing to, Minion or the man. "Can I get one later?"

"No!" The fish took the boy's hand.

"How will people know I'm a…a bad ass?"

"I'm sure you'll manage, sir. March."

"How did you find me?"

"I'll always find you, sir."

They were just out the door when the fish turned around in its bowl and glared at the man. "Shame on you; he is underage." With that remark they left.

The man felt it was good night to close early.

II.

Years later the grown boy (who still went by Megamind but no longer felt the need to prove his badness) sat with his girlfriend. She ran her hands over his face, across his eyebrows, over his nose and mouth. She inspected his ears. He found it odd but not unpleasant. "I would have thought you'd get some sort of facial piercing when you were younger."

"Oh I almost did." he admitted. He raised his voice to heard in the next room. "But some old mama fish, who shall remain nameless, wouldn't let me."

The next room answered. "Just doing my job, sir."

AN: The bit at the end of "old mama fish" was secretly borrowed from Sevandor1's fic Expect the Unexpected which is a must read that you can find here /s/6693879/1/Expect_the_Unexpected. Read Naughty or Nice? first as they kinda go together. Hope you don't mind, Sevandor1!


	2. Knowledge is Power

Knowledge is Power

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I.

Prisoner 93451 of the Metro City Prison was a big man. He had always been big. It was a fact that he had always been proud of. When he was younger he could muscle his way through just about anything. As he got older his muscles got him into petty theft then robbery then grand theft. Before he knew it he was involved in heists. It seemed to happen so seamlessly that he didn't think anything of it. Eventually he got into something he was most definitely not proud of. The media named him but he did his best to forget it and the other prisoners knew not to mention it, especially around Blue.

Blue was the oddest addition to the prison. He had literally landed out of the sky and it was there he stayed. Nobody really knew why but 93451 wasn't going to complain. He liked Blue and woe befell those that messed with him.

Many of the other inmates, known as Uncles to Blue, liked him as well. The guards and warden couldn't help but notice the positive influence the strange child had on them. 93451 himself used to be involved in many fights and riots his first years in prison but that ended shortly after the infant's arrival. Violence was not something he wanted to be responsible for teaching Blue.

That wasn't to say he forgot how to fight or he let his physique go, far from it, a fact that he was immensely glad for one day after exercise period. He was resting in his cell when he heard footsteps. He figured it was Blue; he wasn't in the exercise yard which wasn't unusual but he wasn't back in his cell yet which was. The guards usually brought everyone back at about the same time and Blue always walked past 93451's cell. The footsteps and the accompanying calls of Blue's name from cells further down the block eased his concerns. The other calls made him jump from his bed.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Blue, what happened?"

"Boy, that is one serious shiner!"

He got to his bars just as the child passed by. "What the hell happened?" Both the boy and the guard stopped. Understandably so, 93451 rarely raised his voice anymore. It couldn't be helped. Blue did indeed an impressive bruise over one eye that was threatening to swell. Added to that was a split lip, a broken nose and his left arm was wrapped up and cradled in a sling. This was no accident.

Blue took a red lollipop out of his mouth. He winced when the cut on his lip reopened. "I was in the library during exercise. I had started the book Utopia by Thomas More and I wanted to finish it. Somebody had it but he wasn't reading it. I asked him if I could have it if he was done with it. He said it was dumb and I was more dumb (which is not gram-mat-koly correct) for wanting it. He started to rip it up, which is bad enough, but it wasn't even his book! I told him to stop and he…got mad." He trailed off and stuck the lollipop back in his mouth.

93451 glared at the guard who cringed. "He's been reprimanded and is in solitary for two weeks." 93451 snorted. He knew the type of men who had no problem hurting children; a talking to and a short stay in solitary confinement meant little to them.

"Who was it?" Blue healed fast but that was beside the point.

Blue looked down and shuffled his feet. "The new non-uncle."

"You know you're supposed to stay away from them."

"He ruined the book! It's a classic." The guard assured him the librarian was ordering a new one. Blue nodded and wiggled his fingers sticking out from the cast at his uncle before allowing the guard to escort him back to his cell.

93451 stepped back and sat heavily on his cot. He barely noticed further reactions from other inmates and Blue's fish companion, whose cry of dismay was the loudest. This incident was not something he could just ignore.

No, solitary confinement would not make things better for the child. He was willing to bet that it would only infuriate the newest addition to the prison. The only way to protect the boy was to take matters in his own hands. He swore he'd never use violence again but family was family.

II.

Blue's injuries healed fully within five days. The new copy of his book arrived at the end of the first week. He finished it and several others by the middle of the second week. He seemed to have forgotten the entire episode in the library. His uncle did not.

Prisoner number 10324 was a transfer from a state over. He had been originally been arrested from multiple domestic assault charges. Several parole violations later and he was moved to a more capable facility. There was only one thing that a man like that understood and that was control. 93451 fully intended to control the situation.

The day after he was released from solitary found 10324 smoking behind a brick building during another exercise period. Blue was being distracted by 82903 and 27499 in the basketball court. 93451 couldn't have picked a better time if he had planned it.

He walked through the yard, pausing to say hello to those he knew and give a casual wave to the guards. He patted his pockets, pretending to look for his cigarettes. He had recently given up smoking but they would make a decent prop.

The man he was looking for was leaning against the wall and scowled when 93451 approached him. "Got a light, newbie?"

"Piss off." The half finished cigarette was tossed on the ground and stomped out.

"Well, that ain't very polite. You always react this way when someone asks you a simple question?" 93451 crossed his arms but his overall stance was easy, relaxed.

"My business is none of yours. Beat it before I rearrange your face."

93451 shifted his weight, his body language no longer relaxed but not exactly threatening. "Clever. I'll bet that works all the time for you. Of course, you'll want to try a little harder than that with me. I'm not the type to be intimidated by a coward who pushes around women and little kids." He had started forward and was standing in front of the smaller man. "And I don't think you should continue to do so in my presence."

The transfer rolled his eyes. "Shit. Is this about that thing in the library? Look, the brat was acting all smug and superior. I was just teaching the little freak his place."

He actually didn't get past 'little freak' but the rest was understood and unnecessary. 93451 grabbed the back of the other man's shirt and slammed his face into the brick wall before throwing him to the ground. Dropping one knee against the middle of his opponent's back, the elder convict ignored any protests and uncreative curses. The downed man didn't begin to fight in earnest until he felt an arm go around his throat. It didn't do him any good; 93451 was much heavier and he had locked his elbow under the Adam's apple.

Years of experience had 93451's hold steady. His wrist was encircled by his opposite hand and he dug his knee in a fraction. 10324 was squirming and kicking. Blunt nails were scratching at the arm but were barely felt. He flexed his arm around the throat before speaking. "Do you feel that? That's me putting pressure on your airway decreasing your intake of oxygen. Now listen here because I don't like to repeat myself. When I said I don't like assholes like you I meant I don't want assholes like you anywhere near my own. Still not clear?" He squeezed and couldn't help the thrill at the resulting gag. "You mess with Blue again and I make you blue. Understand?"

The sound that came out of 10324 was more like the last bit of air escaping through his teeth than acknowledgment. It was good enough. 93451 let go and pushed down on the back of 10324's head for leverage to stand. He didn't bother to look back; he had made his point.

Blue was still at the basketball court when he came back. He was still holding the ball but was sitting. The boy's blue face lit up when he saw his uncle's approach. "Uncle! Where did you go?" He put the ball down and greeted the big man.

He smiled at the big green eyes staring up at him. "Just taking care of something. Now," he crouched down to be more on level with those eyes. He picked up the ball and rolled it in his hands. "Why aren't you doing some slam dunks?"

"The hoop is too high and the ball is too big for me." Blue shrugged as if this didn't matter but 93451 could tell he was disappointed.

"Not a chance." He handed the ball back. "Hang on tight to this for me." It did seem very large in the thin hands but Blue held it securely. 93451 picked up both boy and ball and sat the child on his shoulders. A few steps had them in front of the hoop. Blue could have touched the rim with his nose if he leaned forward an inch. He stretched his arms out and let the ball drop.

"Nothing but net." 93451 was rewarded with a laugh. "That's what I like to hear." The guards called for end of exercise and he put the boy down.

"Thanks, Uncle."

"Anytime, kiddo."


	3. Boy Blue

Boy Blue

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Pet

When he first saw the boy's pet he thought it was the strangest fish he had ever seen. The fact that it lived in a glass ball that couldn't break was the least of its peculiarities. The first time he heard it talk he thought someone had slipped something into his food.

The first time he saw the fish make a rolling leap and connect with the temple of a corrupt officer mistreating his fellow alien 93451 thought the little guy was alright.

Picky Eater

Prison food was not very good. Everybody knew it and expected it. It was often referred to as gruel and it was an apt description. Blue ate it without complaint. It was often tasteless but it wasn't like he had anything to compare it to.

Someone snuck him some homemade cookies they got in the mail. When 93451 found out who that was they were going to regret it. For weeks Blue refused to eat anything except what passed as dessert. 93451 nagged him to eat his vegetables before he realized he was turning into his mother.

Visitation Rights

Blue had never been to the visitation room. He had never known anywhere but the prison so he had no one to visit him. He had his uncles and that made him happy but he was curious.

93451 offered to take him the next time his sister came by. Blue took two steps into the room. He caught sight of telephones, glass partitions and an uncle talking with a female who was squishing something against the glass before 93451 slapped a hand over his eyes. "Frank! Tell your girlfriend to cover up. God, Hendricks, do I have to do everything; what kind of guard are you?"

Hendricks sputtered. 45127 (Frank) muttered that he forgot Blue was coming down. Blue was not allowed back to visitation.

Pet II.

Can I have a puppy?

"Where did you get the idea for a puppy?"

Old Yeller. Can I have a puppy?

"You don't need a puppy. You've got a fish."

Minion isn't a pet!

"Where would you keep it? How would you take care of it?"

In my cell. I'll take good care of it. I take care of Minion. Sorta.

"You just said Minion wasn't a pet."

I said sorta.

"A puppy wouldn't survive very well here."

I'm doing okay.

"You're not a pet either."

What am I?

"…You're a boy. You're our boy. That doesn't mean you can have a puppy. Maybe when you're older."

Sigh.

Shake a Leg

It didn't happen often but the inmates were sometimes allowed a radio outside. The stations were limited but those who chose to use it didn't complain. It was good to listen to some music even if they couldn't recognize most of the bands.

93451 and a few others were listening to some classic rock station with the volume turned down low while playing poker. Blue was nearby trouncing 45127 at Go Fish. One song ended and commercials began. It was turning out to be a waste of a privilege as nobody was really listening to it until another song began. "Turn that up, Frank. It's AD/BC."

"That's AC/DC, Joe." 93451 corrected the eldest inmate. Still, he put down his cards as 45127 obliged the request. He grinned at Blue who was listening intently and tapping his foot to the beat.

Holy Inspiration!

The men were pacing about the room. A crime was about to be committed, that much was certain, but who was behind it? The only substantial clue was in the form of a criminal mastermind's sinister riddles. Who would commit such a dastardly deed? Who would taunt the forces of good in such a way? They consulted the printout of the maddening mystery. "What's six ounces, lives in a tree and is very dangerous?" Suddenly the answer came to the youngest of the group. "A sparrow with a machine gun." Of course!

"That doesn't make any sense." Blue didn't usually watch television. Nothing usually held his interest for long and his attention would invariably wander. This movie he was watching with his uncle, however, was so bizarre he couldn't help but be riveted. 93451 wasn't the biggest fan of the movie but if it got Blue to sit still, and it wasn't a textbook of some kind, then it was a miracle.

"I think that's the point."

"They're not very smart."

"Which ones? The good guys or the bad guys?"

"They both don't know what they're doing." He paused to consider the title character. "I like his cape though."

Pet III.

Blue was quite the artist. When most kids his age showed you a picture you had to figure out which way was right side up before you could decipher the thing. When Blue showed you a picture it was obvious and had incredibly accurate details. His pictures of Minion looked like Minion. His pictures of his uncles were better than any sketch artist could produce. This drawing that 93451 had been handed made no sense to him.

"I give up. What am I looking at?"

Blue huffed, it should have been clear. "It's a dog." The boy's uncle gave him a look. Didn't they already have this conversation? "I'll build one. You know I can."

That much was true. Blue had quite the imagination and the intellectual ability to back it up. He took another look. He could see it now; there was a square body, four spindly legs and large eyes. He raised an eyebrow. It was mostly a large jaw with spiky teeth. To be fair, the only dogs Blue actually saw were the guard dogs that barked at him if he got too close to the fence.

"It wouldn't need food or anything. It would have its own power source."

"What's the power source?"

Blue took the picture back and studied it. "I'm still working on that one."

Lightweight

He found Blue just outside workshop. He was slouched against the wall and he looked sick. 93451 rushed forward and lifted his chin. The child was barely awake and mumbling. Something was definitely wrong; he was mispronouncing his words worse than usual. He smelled off, like old grapes.

Another inmate, 76198 to Blue, rounded the corner and paused when he spotted them. "Oh there he is. He's fast." Suddenly 93451 knew why Blue smelled odd. It was 76198's infamous cellmade wine.

"Are you insane?"

"What? Oh. He's fine. My daddy let me have sips of his beer all the time when I was his age."

"Well, you're not his daddy." Thank God.

"Well, neither are you."

That unexpectedly stung. He was 'Uncle', he knew that. He never had any intentions of being anyone's daddy. When he was younger he was extra careful that never happened. He glared at 76198 anyway and scooped the boy up who had fallen asleep. "At least I know better than give a kid alcohol. Especially the poorly made kind."

"Hey, it's good stuff. Anyway he only had a little. How was I supposed to know it'd go straight to his head?"

"Stupid. Where else is it gonna go?"

Home

They were trying to find Blue a real family. Several other uncles protested that he already had a family, thank you very much. 93451 had to bite his tongue. He wanted to agree but this place was nowhere a child should grow up. Blue should have all the chances they had to experience the outside.

The day he left to meet his prospective family 93451 smiled and told him he looked good in his civilian clothes (boys don't like to be told they're cute, even if they are). He wished him luck. He didn't want the boy to know he was worried. He was worried the couple wouldn't be able to take care of such a precocious boy. The couple wasn't suited to take care of any child. The couple was perfect and Blue would grow to hate his uncles. Blue would forget them altogether. 93451 worried the entire time he was gone.

When Blue came back he couldn't say if he was disappointed or relieved but his heart broke when the boy walked past, his eyes wide and damp.

"I did my best."

Last

He had thought about it for months, even before he lost his last appeal. Not that he tried terribly hard; he knew what he did and he almost welcomed the end of living with it.

The severity of what was coming for him didn't fully hit him until he was discussing options with a guard and Blue, overhearing, asked "Last meal before what?"


	4. For the Articles

For the Articles

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The warden of Metro City's Prison for the Criminally Gifted had a military stance and a purposeful stride. Proper posture was a trait he considered imperative for the occupation. It conveyed power, conviction and above all control. The only way to maintain a measure of peace in an environment of criminals and thugs was to let them know in no uncertain terms that their overseer was not going to tolerate any attitude or bull. These involuntary guests of his were not going to get the upper hand or surprise him.

He was making his rounds through the halls of three hundred sixty seven cells. He was keeping a watchful eye on his guards as much as the inmates. His employees tended to take unscheduled breaks by reading, playing cards or just chatting. That was not going to happen if he could help it.

It was midmorning and everything was the way it should have been. The guards were on patrol, the inmates were all in their cells and their resident alien was quiet for once.

From the time Blue arrived as an infant until he was a young boy the small extraterrestrial was a model inmate. He had some trouble now and then when his inventions, for a lack of a better term, got out of hand. It had never been that big of a deal. He was extraordinarily intelligent and was just making honest mistakes any child would. Other than that he was respectful and as calm as any boy could be. In fact, he had a calming effect on quite a few other inmates.

That all changed after they attempted to send him to an actual school with other children. Blue never talked about it but it was clear it was a monumental failure on all parties. Instead of giving him a clearer grasp of the nuances of civil society it had antagonized him. He started to believe he was in prison for a reason. He was meant to do bad things. It was a drastic attitude change. When it happened he was too young by human standards for puberty. It was chalked up that the boy just did not mix well with normal children.

They would have pulled him out of the school anyway even if the schoolhouse itself had not simply vanished. Since then he had been 'home schooled', using what methods they had to teach adult inmates to get their high school diploma by correspondence. Blue was much more advanced than what they had in terms of math and science but college course books were easily ordered. They cost more than the warden would have liked but they only needed one set and it kept Blue from deliberately setting something off.

He approached the aforementioned's cell and peered in. Blue, who did not respond to that name anymore but hadn't come up with an alternative yet, was definitely a teenager. Still rather short, he was nevertheless gangly and all knees and elbows with a disdain for authority to match. At the moment he was sitting on his cot with knees drawn up and reading his history book.

"Are you going to stare at me all day? I'm afraid it would be a rather boring endeavor. Well, today at any rate." Blue's voice came from behind the cover. He hadn't bothered to look up.

The warden folded his arms and lifted his chin. "What chapter are you on?" The question was more of an challenge than out of any curiosity. The teen didn't care much for history but he had been told to study it and that was what he was going to do.

"World War II. What a bunch of peaceful and understanding creatures you humans are." He graced the warden with a raised eyebrow and a smirk before disappearing behind the covers of his book.

The warden scowled. "The lesson you should take away from it is that bad guys always lose. Those who are ignorant of history are doomed to repeat it and you know what they say about doing the same over and over again expecting different results."

"Yes, yes. The definition of insanity. Thank you. I'll file your advise under 'cliched phrases' for later. You can go away now."The conversation apparently over, he went back to his reading.

Growling under his breath, the warden began to stalk away. His firm steps echoed down the hall, thankfully drowning out any snickering from various proclaimed uncles. Honestly, the attitude on that puffed-up brat! His own son didn't behave this poorly during his teenage rebellious years. The warden's steps slowed at that thought. Thinking of the recent experience with his boy during the terrible bid for independence made the warden turn back with a smile on his face. Blue had his history book, true, but he was holding it in such a way that showed the cover clearly but not the contents. He had seen that all too often at home.

He stood in front of the boy's bars and grinned. In turn, the teen looked out the side of his text. "Got more overused philosophy to throw my way?"

The warden humphed, the closest thing he got to a laugh. "Hand it over."

"Hand what over? Does it look like I have a wealth of spaces to hide things?" His hand waved toward the rest of the small square room. It was indeed quite barren, there wasn't even bits of paper with drawings or equations hanging from the ceiling.

"Considering it's you? Yes, especially behind your book." He jabbed his finger at the object in question in a classic detective's 'Ah-ha!' fashion. "That sort of magazine is contraband. Give it here." He put his hand through the bars palm up expecting immediate compliance.

"I don't have any contraband."

"Oh please. Save yourself some embarrassment, boy, and give me the magazine. I'm smarter than you think."

Blue's chin lowered and his lips pulled back in a sneer. "It still wouldn't amount to much." He got up and slapped the magazine in the awaiting hand.

The warden considered it due to his extreme patience and the thrill of victory that he let the last comment slide. He looked down at the glossy cover. He blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

ScienceNOW! Special Astronomy DoubleIssue

He quickly flipped through it to make sure it was what it advertised. There was nothing but solar flares, orbital patterns and NASA between the pages.

Blue was watching him with his hands on his narrow hips. "When can I have it back? There's an article about black holes I want to finish."

The warden turned the page and there it was. 'Space's Vacuum: Where Does It All Go?' He shut the magazine and shoved it back. "You've got ten minutes. Then you better finish two…make that three chapters of that history book before supper." Since it was technically not contraband he had no real reason to hold it but he wasn't going to admit it.

Blue appeared thunderstruck, gripping his magazine like a lifeline. His face broke out in a rare true smile. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Warden!" Without further ado he leapt back on his cot, shoved his homework out of the way and sat cross-legged with his prize. He quickly found where he left off still smiling.

The warden humphed again and left. "What a weird kid."


	5. Work it Out

Work It Out

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Blue was quite used to sitting by himself during exercise time. He preferred to spend it in the library but there were times when he was dragged (sometimes literally by the warden) outside. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the company of his uncles. It was that they didn't have that much in common anymore and he needed all the time he could get to work on his own designs since he had to devote some to time to the 'home work' he got from school. The problems, as they were called, would not have been difficult for him when he was an infant but he still needed to hand it in.

A genuine school problem had Blue hard at work one sunny afternoon. Balancing his sketchpad on his knees he was coming up with a defense system for a game the children liked to play during their own yard time. It involved throwing large red balls at one person who tried to deflect them. The rules seemed dubious at best and it seemed unfair that he was always the child against the wall but if he refused they wouldn't let him play at all so he did his best. it was not an easy task especially for someone like Blue and especially against someone like Wayne Scott. The bigger boy had an excellent throwing arm and before Blue knew it he was down making himself an easier target for the others.

That was why he was determined to create something that would give him an edge. A wristband of some sorts? It would be small enough to take to school but would it be too small to provide adequate protection? It wasn't always easy to see the projectiles flying his way; he wouldn't have time to bring his wrist up. That idea was out as well as the clunky invisible dome. He tapped the end of his pencil against his chin. What would work best in this scenario? He had discussed this dilemma with Minion but the fish was just as, if not more so, stumped as he was.

Lost in thought, he jumped when Uncle 29619 came up behind him. "Whatcha makin', little brother?"

Once his heartbeat slowed down to a reasonable level, Blue sighed. "Nothing so far. I can't come up with a decent thing to help me with a…a game at chool."

29619 sat beside him. "What kind of game?" The real question he had was what kind of game had a kid genius almost busting a brain cell on his own safety equipment but that was beside the point. Blue explained the general gist of the game. "That sorta sounds like dodgeball. You don't need anything fancy for that. You just gotta dodge."

"There's a lot of balls."

"Then catch some and throw them back."

"Why would I give them back?" When he got hit he let the balls fall off to the side. The less ammo they had at easy disposal the quicker the game ended. Of course that didn't always stop Wayne from gathering them up in record time. That didn't mean he had to help them.

His uncle shook his head. "Throw them back, not give them back. If you hit them they're out. Less balls you gotta dodge."

The very idea made Blue's eyes widen. "I can do that?" How many more rules to this game did he not know? He normally hated admitting not knowing anything about something he encountered but it sounded like this was to his benefit.

"Well, you're certainly allowed to. I don't know about 'can'; let me see your arms." Blue stretched his arms out straight in front of him, palms down. 29619 took hold of his wrists and brought his arms up and to his sides so from shoulder to elbow was parallel to the ground and the rest was pointing to the sky. Giving the skinny arms a wiggle 29619 considered the raw material. "Hmmm. Might need some work." He motioned Blue over to the area of the exercise yard that he had never been, the actual exercise yard. There were several weights and barbells as well as other strength building machines that the youngest resident could not identify.

He examined the barbells that had been left behind from another inmate. The weights on them were bigger than his head, which he knew was saying something. "I don't know if this is the way to go for me."

29619 waved away his concern. "You won't be starting with those, little brother! You work your way up. You got small arms so you start small but before you know it you'll be lifting all kinds of weights." He lifted his arms in the same manner he lifted Blue's. The boy had to admit that they looked rather impressive. If being stronger could help him fit in with the other children the way it must have done for Wayne then it was worth a try.

He followed after his uncle, weaving his way through the various workout equipment. Uncles and other inmates did double takes when they saw him as he normally avoided the area. He gave them small waves and hurried over to 29619. His uncle was standing next to weights independent of any machine. "These, Blue, are called free weights. They're a good way to start." He picked up the smallest of the weights and, after some consideration of its weight, handed them to Blue. "One in each hand," he corrected when the boy attempted to hold both in cupped hands.

Shifting them into the correct position certainly helped but just holding them made his arms ache. "What do I do with them?"

"Lift them over your head." 29619 picked up a much larger example of the free weights and demonstrated the proper method. "Do a couple of reps of these each day and you'll be ready for anything those kids throw at you."

Unlikely, thought Blue but attempted to copy his elder's movements. He lifted them as far up as his ears a few times before his arms gave out. "How often do I have to do this?"

29619 put the weights back. "Eh. That's a good start, I guess. Oh! How often? Every day is best. Let the muscles know you mean business, right Bobby?"

Bobby, prison number 41907, was neither an uncle nor a non-uncle. Blue didn't know him very well and although 41907 thought a child in the prison was bizarre and, quite frankly, a clear sign that the whole system was out of joint he didn't pay much mind to the small blue inmate. Still, this was one subject he understood well. "Practice makes perfect, runt. If you want something you can't expect it to fall in your lap. You gotta work for it."

Blue eyed the weights with disfavor, his bottom lip unconsciously sticking out at the thought of doing that on a regular basis. Exercise period was the best time to think up schematics. How was he supposed to work on his own projects if he was always busy with building up his defense?

Pout noticed, as it was fairly obvious, 41907 uncharacteristically offered a solution. "Why don't you start with sit ups and push ups. You don't need any equipment for that so you can do it in your cell. Helps clear the mind too which probably is a good thing for a head that big." He lightly jabbed a finger against the forehead in question. At the limit of his involvement he turned back to his own exercise regime.

Blue rubbed the spot. He knew the other inmate didn't mean for it to hurt so he didn't say anything. Besides, the idea had merit. If he didn't need any of the 'free weights' to do it then it must be easier and being able to do it in his cell certainly freed up plenty of time for his inventions. "That sounds great, 29619! How do I do the sits and pushes?" Exercising, on the whole, did not thrill Blue but he knew all too well the necessity of pushing one's limits.

29619 grinned. "Great idea, Bobby! Why didn't I think of that?" 41907 snorted but didn't comment. "Okay! Let's do push ups. Lay face down on the ground."

"On the ground?"

"Well, yeah. You have to get a little dirty if you wanna win." Blue grumbled but followed instructions. "Put your hands flat down by your head. Shoulder width apart, not so close together. Same with your feet but go on your toes. Okay, not literally on your toes; bend them a little. That's…better." Blue's feet were technically in the correct position but the toes were bent far back in an impossible angle. 29619 found it a little disturbing. "Now push down against the ground."

Blue didn't move. "I thought these were called pushes-up."

"Push ups, yeah. You push down on the ground and that makes you push yourself up. See?"

"I see the ground, yes, though I fail to understand the dis-tink-tion." Nevertheless he added pressure against the concrete even though a few stray pebbles bit into his palms. His arms shook but with determination he felt himself lift.

His uncle was silent for a moment. "Um, not really what we were trying for. Lift your head and level yourself out. You look like one of those fancy stretching moves."

One of the nearby guards laughed. "Yoga, Sam. And you're right. Nice Downward Facing Dog, dude." Blue flopped down in defeat.

41907 shook his head. "That was just embarrassing. Try sit ups. Even girls can do those."

29619 waved him away. "Leave him alone; he's just top heavy. Besides, your mother can't do anything so what does that say about her?"

The other inmate scowled but didn't respond as he knew it was true. 29619 clapped his hands. "Don't pay Bobby any mind, Blue. He's just grumpy cause the guards confiscated his mail again. He's got a point though. Sit ups are easier. Maybe you should start with those. Lay back down on the ground but on your back this time." Blue was not feeling particularly happy with how this experiment was going and would rather label it an 'unsuccess' but he did as he was told. "Keep your feet together and bend your knees up." 29619 knelt in front of him and placed his hands lightly on the top of Blue's feet. "Now put your hands behind your head and bring it to your knees."

This sounded worse than the pushes-up. He was, as his uncle stated, very top heavy. His head currently weighed twice as much as the rest of his body. He hoped that ratio would change as he grew older but at the moment there was nothing but a thin neck and narrow shoulders to hold it up. Doing what his uncle asked of him seemed daunting but he knew his uncle was only trying to help him. Linking his fingers behind his head where skull met neck to limit the amount of strain on such a delicate balance, Blue took a breath.

His stomach clenched. His teeth ground together. His legs were desperate to lift off the ground to counterbalance this arduous task but his uncle's hands gave them no leave. Distantly, he was aware his uncle was giving him words of encouragement but they were drowned out by the blood pounding in his head. When he could do no more he went back down wincing at the hard ground and panting.

"Well," 29619 said after a pause, "you got the form right at least. That was a good half of a sit up."

"More than half." Blue defended. He could tell. He was precisely 5/8 up, to be perfectly clear and he knew from experience that rounding up or down in any calculation was never wise. Still, it was less than what he hoped. "Perhaps my people were never meant to do this sort of thing." He'd probably never know for sure but this seemed like a good indication.

"I guess." 29619 was not comfortable with the idea of aliens of the otherworldly sense. He had seen ET as a kid and although the title character was a good sort it still gave him the heebie-jeebies. Most of the time he tried to ignore that Blue was…as unique as he was. "Keep it up though. It'll get easier. When's your next dodgeball game?"

There was no set days that they played but Wayne seemed to favor the game. "Tomorrow, probably."

"Oh." 29619 scratched his chin. "Maybe you should just wear a helmet."

Blue's face immediately cleared and he grinned. "That's it! Oh, thank you, 29619!" A quick hug was given before the boy dashed back to his sketchbook. If he wanted his defense up and running by the next day he had some serious work to do


End file.
